


Leave Me To My Darkness

by grimmauxillatrix



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Feelings Jam, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Movie, Pre-Slash, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmauxillatrix/pseuds/grimmauxillatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows what it's like to be alone and not believed in. Despite himself, Jack feels sympathy for Pitch, and decides to pay him a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Me To My Darkness

During spring, when he has nothing good to do in either hemisphere, Jack Frost goes looking.  
  
He soars through forests near towns and cities, accidentally leaving patches of ice on tree trunks when he forgets himself. Despite the fact that he is a Guardian now (he still can’t quite believe it, which is ironic in so many ways), Jack still feels a need to keep to himself. He wants to keep his secrets, and occasionally North’s perpetual cheer really gets on his nerves.   
  
So he flies off to be alone, and to look for something. He won’t admit to himself what he’s looking for, keeping it down and hidden in his icy core. It’s only when he nearly falls over it that he admits that yeah, he needs to go talk to the guy again.  
  
The old and broken bed frame is barely solid, even under the pale light of the moon. The hole under it looks half real, barely grey. Jack looks up at the moon, which seems oddly full for having been barely new two nights ago.   
  
“Look, are you sure this is a good idea? Because I respect your advice, I really do, but I mean... it’s him. He nearly ruined everything they... we worked for, okay, and I don’t want to wreck it all over again.”  
  
The moon glimmers at him. Jack rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out a little. For a wise guardian of Guardians, the Man in the Moon definitely enjoyed being obtuse. He nudges the bed frame aside with his staff, looking doubtfully into the hole, then glances up at the moon again. This process occurs several more times until Jack looks up and winces at the sudden glare.  
  
“Alright, alright, I’m going I’m going.”   
  
He leaps down the hole, feet sliding along the dirt walls as easily as they did on ice and snow. The lack of substance bothers him more than the rough dirt and stones would, and he tries to hurry faster down the tunnel. He does succeed in going faster, but only by the dint of tripping and rolling down the tunnel instead. Stone greets his head with a shower of stars behind his eyes, and Jack groans as he finally comes to a halt against one of the low walls.   
  
“Yes, this was a great plan. Good job, Jack, you have done it again.”   
  
His head hurts even more than when the yetis threw him out of North’s workshop and literally down the mountain, ages ago. Jack gets up, using his staff for support, and begins wobbling along one of the innumerable battlements Pitch Black seems to have a fondness for. He knows it’s useless to go looking for the Nightmare King. It’s rather a matter of Pitch finding him.  
  
Which he does, about ten minutes later.  
  
“Ah, Jack Frost, newest of the Guardians.” The voice sounds poisonously malicious, and raw, as though Pitch could no longer hide his anger behind a veil of decorum. “To what do I owe the _pleasure_ of this visit?”   
  
Jack turns and stares evenly back at the silhouette on the wall. He knew that tone very well. He’d used it himself, countless times, when he’d asked _what did I do wrong this time_?   
  
“Nothing. I just decided to pay you a visit.”  
  
“It’s an awfully long way to come, just for a social call.” The silhouette grows, trying to menace Jack, who merely jabs at it with his staff, unimpressed.   
  
“Quit showboating, Pitch. Let’s talk, face to face.”  
  
“The last time we spoke face to face my power was torn from me, leaving me a bereft shadow of my former power.” The snarl sends shivers down Jacks’ spine, and he turns his head to try to see where the elder spirit could be hiding. He didn’t see anything, which didn’t necessarily mean anything.   
  
“So what will it be now, Guardian of the Snow?” The shadow grows, towering over Jack on the wall. Pitch’s voice seems to be distorting, each word carrying traces of snarls and howls as his shadow thickens. Jack can see swirls of sand in it now, and suddenly he’s afraid, afraid that the entire castle-cave will come crashing down on his head and there will be nothing left of him besides a frosty puddle.   
  
“Will you strip me of the last vestiges of my existence, and send me into the pages of books?” Pitch is howling now, and though the air is still, Jack can hear the wind shrieking past his ears. “Is that what your precious friends told you to do? Prove yourself to them by killing me?”  
  
“For the love of the grumpy Old Man, would you just shut up for a second? I’m here to talk! I don’t want to do anything else!”  
  
There’s a sudden terrifying silence, a silence born of the darkness of the earth and the stillness between the stars.  
  
“Well then. Talk.” It’s almost a whisper. A sad breath of air that tickles his ear. Jack realizes with a thrill of absolute fire up his spine that Pitch is behind him now. He dares not turn, just leans on his staff and addresses the wall.   
  
“I wanted to see if you were alright.” He admits, tongue flicking over his lips nervously.   
  
There is another long silence, but it’s full somehow, full of feelings Jack can only name from the memories of his long years alone in the snow.  
  
“Why would you do that, boy?”   
“Because I feel sorry for you.” Jack waves a hand frantically as he can hear Pitch puff himself up, ready to shriek at him again. “I know how you feel, alright? I’ve been there, for most of my existence. No one saw me, no one heard me, no one cared. There’s no pity in this, not me making fun of you for being relegated to stories and sayings. I just feel bad for you.”   
  
He turns around then, bracing himself to smack Pitch upside the head if the spirit were to suddenly take offense to what he said. But there’s no need to worry. Pitch seems more frozen than if Jack had blasted him with ice. Only his eyes, glimmering golden at their very center, betrayed that he was more than a statue made of shadows and cobwebs.   
  
Then he sighs, and shrinks as his head falls. Jack hadn’t realized that the spirit might have been making himself bigger until Pitch is just a little taller than he is. They stare at each other, until Pitch shies away and vanishes into the corner under the stairs.   
  
“Go away, Jack Frost. Leave me to my loneliness.” The whisper ruffles Jack’s hair, and prompts him to dart up the stairs.   
  
“Look, I can understand you being all dark and gloomy, but I never thought you’d be stupid.” Jack looks over the parapets to see Pitch appear on another stair, and then vanish. “What do you have against friendly visits?”   
  
“Friendly visits seem to have quite a harmful tendency to try to kill me.” Pitch snaps back, popping up again to glower at the frost spirit who’s leaving icy trails all over his stone floors.   
  
“Have I tried to kill you yet? No. Am I trying to be nice? Yeah! But I don’t think I’m going to keep trying, because obviously me reaching out with an olive branch is going to result in me being smacked by the olive branch.”  
  
He turns on his heel and goes looking to the exit from the shadowy realm, not willing to deal with the moody Boogieman any longer. The Man in the Moon was full of crock this time, Jack decides, and resolves to never feel anything for Pitch, ever again.  
  
His probing is stopped by a hand thrust into the middle of his chest. Jack stumbles back as Pitch slinks out of that particular shadow, looking oddly vulnerable.   
  
“You really mean it.” He hisses. “You would come visit me, in my realm, because you feel sorry for me.”  
  
“I’d do it because no one did it for me when I was lonely, alright? I don’t want anyone, not even you to have to feel what I felt.” Jack runs his spare hand, the one not brandishing his staff at Pitch, through his hair in exasperation.   
  
“You mean it.” Pitch hisses again.

  
“Yes I mean it. Am I not being clear?”  
  
The hand in the middle of his chest vanishes, to be replaced by a hand in his hair, from behind. Jack remains perfectly still, now wondering if Pitch was completely out of his gourd. The stroking continues for about a minute, before is suddenly stops. Jack turns, cautiously, to stare at the elder spirit. Their eyes meet, and hold, black-rimmed gold burning into icy blue. Jack shivers a little, feeling strangely warm.   
  
“So... uh...” He has no idea where to go from here. Jack had been sure that this entire foolish endeavour was going to end in more fighting. “So, I guess we could talk?”   
  
There’s a moment of darkness, and Jack finds himself standing next to Pitch’s globe. The lights illuminate them both, and in their light, Pitch seems to regain a bit of his depth and blackness.  
  
“Talk to me, Guardian of the Frost.” He says, leaning towards Jack again. “Tell me of the world beyond my realm.”   
  
Jack nods, and begins talking. He’s sure that Pitch has been thoroughly beaten, but he worries a little. Pitch seems to gain strength from the tales of the world above, becoming less stooped as Jack continues his stories. When he’s done, Pitch nods, face like stone.   
  
“I must say,” Pitch speaks with exaggerated slowness, as though the words are hard to get out, “That I thank you, Jack Frost.”  
  
Jack responds with an even more bemused look. “Uh, you’re welcome, I guess.”  
  
“Feel free to return whenever you wish, although I doubt it will be often. I give you free passage to my realm.” He walks away, trailing his cloak of shadows behind him. “The door back is behind you.”  
  
Jack turns to see a new tunnel sloping up behind him. He turns back, confused.   
  
“Aren’t you still worried about being killed?”  
  
Pitch stops in his tracks and looks back at him, eyes glimmering.   
  
“I am choosing to trust you, Jack. Don’t make me regret it.”  
  
He vanishes, and Jack is left alone next to the globe. He doesn’t know if it’s worth coming back to visit, but he still feels sorry for the elder spirit, stuck alone in the dark. Lifting his staff and beginning the trudge up the tunnel, Jack decides he’ll come back. For one more visit. **  
**


End file.
